


The Poison in the Wound

by Rhysand_vs_Rowan



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:42:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysand_vs_Rowan/pseuds/Rhysand_vs_Rowan
Summary: Feyre and Tamlin meet to try and finally clear away some of the bad blood between them.**This fic is independent of my other works.





	The Poison in the Wound

Snow capped the distant mountains- all except one.

That one would have remained untouched even in a blizzard.

Feyre sat in the grass, alone, and watched that mountain.

What did others see when they looked at it? Did they see something holy that had been defiled? Did they see a prison? Did they see a crimson queen in her blood-soaked court? Did they see bones, snapped and broken and stuck in the walls? Did they look at it and feel the heat of a burning grate lowering, ready to crush the life out of someone frightened and desperate?

Did they see the blood of two innocents?

Did they see a broken human dying in every way it was possible to die?

Did they see the precious love she’d found?

Feyre just stared at that distant mountain and for once she let herself feel it again.

She _let_ the roar of the crowd boom in her ears, heard once more the cackling of that vain, crimson whore. She heard the roar of the Middengard wyrm, the screeching of metal as those chains lowered the grate, and the keening wail of an unseen female as she drove an ash dagger into a male’s heart.

Was it his mother? His wife? His child?

Did Feyre even _want_ to know?

She shied away from nothing as she sat in the midmorning sun and watched that mountain. The ugliness, the horror- it would have been all too simple to move this meeting somewhere else, somewhere she couldn’t even _see_ the peak of that mountain-

-but it was her story.

It was how she’d lived, how she’d loved, and how she’d died.

… how _they_ had died.

His arrival was marked by the rumble of a spring storm. Feyre straightened, pushing back at the sights and sounds of that distant horror.

“Why did you want to meet me here?”

Tamlin’s voice made something in her writhe. If she was truly the wolf Ouroborous claimed, she would have growled at his mere _scent_ \- that clotting, cloying _stench_ of roses that she had once loved so dearly. His impatient tone made the darkness in her edged- no longer the quiet darkness of lovers, but that sharp obsidian of the Hewn City.

Which was precisely _why_ this needed to happen.

Feyre stood and brushed off her simple tunic. She’d opted to ditch the Illyrian leathers for today- which Cassian was understandably against. She came as herself- which wasn’t to say that she did not have a glamour over the shortsword strapped to her back or her wings at the ready, just in case.

“I asked you to come here because-“

“What? You want to make sure I’m _handled_ in case the human Queens make their move? Or is Rhysand interested in trade to show off his little Velaris and-“

She growled low in warning.

Tamlin glared her down in his green tunic and new baldric- weapons on full display.

“I asked you to come here, _Tamlin_ , precisely because of-“ she waved a hand at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Feyre refused to open the pocket of her mind where Rhysand waited, listening. She didn’t want to rely on him for this- not that he hadn’t helped her prepare. This was something _she_ needed to do. Alone. Otherwise it would never be over.

“Can we just _talk_? Not as High Lord and High Lady, as Tamlin and Feyre. _Please_?”

He crossed his arms and ground his teeth, “I did my part in bringing him back.” Tamlin’s voice was barely a whisper, “What more do you want? An apology? After you-“

“ _Could you shut up for five minutes_?!” Feyre snapped. She regretted it immediately. “I’m sorry, that’s not- this isn’t how I wanted this discussion to go.”

“How did you _think_ it’d go?”

Feyre rubbed her forehead and said a silent prayer to the Cauldron for patience, “If I speak, will you promise to _listen_ , and wait until I’m done? If you give me that, I’ll return the favor. Please?”

Tamlin rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Do you want to sit-“

“Just say what you wanted to say so I can go back to fixing my Court.”

“Fine! _”_ She took a deep breath, “Sorry, _fine_. Thank you.”

All the rehearsal they’d done, all of Rhysand’s soothing advice and Mor’s help planning what to say went straight out the window as Feyre looked at Tamlin. She pushed the anger in her heart aside and beneath it found a deep, aching sadness. It was the fuel for that fire, and she had a feeling it was the same in Tamlin.

_Rage is just what happens when love is disappointed._

She’d read that line in a book only last month. It was nothing within the story itself- the musings of a naïve child to an angry warrior- but it stuck in her mind.

In many ways, it was why she’d written to ask Tamlin for this meeting in the only truly neutral land in all of Prythian.

“When you brought me to Spring, the first time, I’d given up hoping.” She spoke softly and deliberately avoided Tamlin’s gaze. “I wasn’t much of anything anymore- all I knew was that fight to survive. I had my family, but- but loving them wasn’t easy. They were an obligation. They were mouths to feed when there wasn’t enough food for anyone… And they treated me like shit.” It was something Nesta had only recently let herself acknowledge and begin making amends for.

“I was bitter, sharp-tongued and sharper edged… but you welcomed me into your Court. I don’t care what your agenda was or even that there was one. I don’t care, because it became something real in the end. Tamlin- I know you loved me, and I know that I loved you.”

Her stomach churned in disgust- the mating bond recoiling against her own words and memories- but it didn’t make it any less true.

“When you sent me away, I was devastated. When I came back, when I found out the truth about it all, I was determined to save you. You’d done more for me than I could ever repay, so I had to try. I had to see if there was still hope. I had to see if my love could still fix things.”

Feyre turned back to look at that distant peak, “The trials killed me long before Amarantha did. Rhysand played his role, did what he could to keep me from seeing the horrors that went on at night, kept me fighting… but what he could do was stunted by _her_. He couldn’t help openly, and you just sat there like _stone_ through it all. I was alone. _Worse_ than alone. Lucien tried to help me but all that did was highlight _your_ absence.”

A tear slipped down Feyre’s cheek and she wiped it away, “After… after it all, I was broken. I felt like something had been ripped out of me and it left this bloody, gaping hole behind. I felt like I was screaming and screaming and _no one_ could hear me… Like you were the stone beside Amarantha’s throne again. I’d been so alone Under the Mountain, and when we returned to Spring I was alone again. When I woke up crying and vomiting, I was alone. When I laid there at night and nearly pissed myself because- even awake- I thought I was back in that cell, I was alone.

“You tried- I’m not saying you didn’t. I knew, even then, that something was broken in you. We never talked about any of it, so that gaping wound just got worse. When you found ways to keep me pinned in the manor, it began to feel like Under the Mountain again. It felt like I was still there, and you were still stone.”

She looked back in time to see a quiver in Tamlin’s chin- one he quickly hid in a cough, “Tamlin, I wasn’t going to marry you. That’s why Rhysand came. That’s the only reason he came. He was never going to call in our bargain, but when I saw those petals… I couldn’t do it. It triggered something. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, everything felt _wrong_ \- so I looked to Lucien, to Ianthe, to _you_ \- I looked at that crowd and begged _anyone_ to save me. To stop it. I was screaming as loud as I could and Rhys heard it. On the other side of Prythian, he felt what I felt and came to make sure I was alright.”

“I hated him. I still thought he was Amarantha’s whore, I still thought he was nothing more than the male who’d killed your family. I was _terrified_ … But we were broken in similar ways. He went through more than I did for far, _far_ longer, but he understood. He gave me a purpose- one that admittedly suited his own plans. He taught me to read and to shield my mind. I thought it was just selfish of him- a way to make me feel angry and small… But he gave me a mission. He gave me something to work towards, to _actively_ work towards. The world righted itself just a little.

“Each time he summoned me back to Night he found ways of helping without seeming to help. Each time I returned to Spring I was a little stronger, but your Court was just the same. His Court- what I still thought was a Court of Nightmares- offered me _freedom_. Choice. Solid ground. Yours offered me isolation. Just like Under the Mountain, Rhys was the one who came to me. You were rock.”

Feyre swallowed hard and took a deep breath, “When _it_ happened, when you locked me in, do you want to know what Mor said? As she picked me up and carried me into the tunnels, I began to thrash. I couldn’t go back underground, I would sooner kill myself. She held me tighter and told me I was free. Not ‘safe’. Not ‘protected’. I was _free_.

“That was when I realized that I’d become your prisoner.”

She let the words hang in the air. Feyre took another breath, “Tamlin, I _healed_ in Night. I felt like a treacherous, lying piece of filth, but even then I was stronger. When I sent you that note, it was all I was capable of. When you sent Lucien after me… All I saw was that void again- that raw, aching wound in my soul that had festered. I saw my friends gone and nothing more than that solitary existence stuck in front of me forever- only now it was so, _so_ much worse because by then I’d started healing. I was _strong_ , I was never alone, and-“

Feyre’s voice broke. She fidgeted with her tunic a moment. She felt Rhys’ hand resting against her shields. Offering her strength. He didn’t try to speak to her, he’d accepted that she needed to do this alone, but he was still there.

“It felt like Lucien had come to kill me. It felt like he’d come to kill _them_ \- Azriel, Cassian, Mor, Amren- even Rhys. If he got me back, you’d have found some way for me to never see them again, and back then that was no different than if he’d killed them. So I struck back to defend them… And then Hybern happened.

“I was supposed to spy on your Court- though Rhys didn’t want me there in the first place. I hated you for what nearly happened to them, and for who you’d become after Under the Mountain. I hated you for not seeing that I was in pain and not _fixing it_. I hated you for things that were and were not in your control… So I convinced myself you were Amarantha reborn. I lied and played dirty to fight against you the exact same way I’d always wanted to fight Amarantha. I punished you for every ounce of pain I’d felt, and I took pleasure in it.

“I was so alone in Spring, Tamlin. I was _so alone_ … And I taught you what that felt like, all while you looked at me as though I was your chance at salvation. I made you rely on me, trust me, love me, and forgive me… and then I ripped it all away. I even took Lucien, in part because I needed his help to escape but also… Also so you would know how it felt to be alone.

“I didn’t have any friends when I was with you. Not really. In Night I had Cassian, Azriel, Mor- even Amren. Any one of them would have fought for me and my sanity as hard as Rhys did. Any one of them would have _fought_ Rhys, even when they barely knew me. I had no one like that in Spring. In a way, you had Lucien… So, I took him too.

“I left you as alone as I’d been, without your Court or even a friend to lean on. I abandoned you to find your own way, because I felt like I was abandoned back then.”

Feyre stood up a little straighter and blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. She didn’t know what to say. Apologize? She wasn’t entirely sure that was possible just yet. Tell Tamlin _exactly_ what she thought of him? Tell him he was abusive and dismissive and-

_No. I didn’t come here for that._

So she let the silence drag on.

Tamlin stared at some distant point, but even if he didn’t speak, Feyre felt lighter somehow. She felt _free_. Even if he turned around and walked away, even if he spit in her face or tried to kill her- Feyre felt as though some great weight was suddenly gone. One she didn’t even know she was carrying. Her _soul_ felt brighter. That sharp-edged darkness was soft once more.

She’d done it- she’d spoken to Tamlin and instead of feeling like filth afterwards, she felt better. She hadn’t attacked him with the same childish vitriol he’d shown her at the High Lord’s meeting, she hadn’t lost her temper or said something overwhelmingly stupid- she’d told the truth. She’d been more honest with him than she’d even been with herself.

The overwhelming love Rhys sent down their bond gave her a ghost of a smile, even with Tamlin so near.

Feyre looked at him, but everything she’d felt was gone. She truly, at long last, felt _nothing_ for him. No anger, disgust, rage, or pain- _nothing_.

“Can we- can we sit down after all?” Tamlin’s voice was soft.

With a wave of her hand, Feyre summoned a table, chairs, and most importantly _strong_ alcohol. She could see that Tamlin was struggling, but she wasn’t going to push him. He sat first, slumping into a chair. He filled her glass, but pushed his own aside and drank from the bottle directly.

Feyre sat down and took a long, slow drink from the glass.

“Here, if you wanted more.” With a wave of _his_ hand another bottle appeared. Feyre refilled hers

Tamlin chugged half of _his_ bottle in one go.

“Tamlin, I-“ she was going to apologize to him after all. She still felt light and free, but she could see that he didn’t. A selfish part of her wanted to know that _he_ felt sorry for everything he’d done before she actually offered a true apology… but she was trying to ignore that part.

He cut her off, “I was a coward Under the Mountain. I know that. I won’t make excuses. Things happened to me too that- that I’m not willing to face yet. Because I couldn’t face it then, I didn’t try with you. I could barely hold _myself_ up, how could I be responsible for someone else’s pain? Even if it was the woman I loved, even if _I_ felt like a treacherous piece of filth for pretending to sleep when she was curled up and crying- I just wasn’t strong enough.

“I hated becoming High Lord, you know that. I admit that I treated Lucien like less than a friend. I admit that when I get angry I react too strongly- too physically. I’m trying to work on that. After Under the Mountain all that rage and pain and fear- they were sitting on the surface. You felt _nothing_ , your pain buried you alive, yes, but I was still jealous. I thought being broken was preferable to whatever I was.

“You wanted things to change, and I just wanted them normal. I wanted a quiet happily-ever-after. I wanted what I used to read about in books as a child: The handsome male saves the female and they ride off into the setting sun. They don’t both pull themselves on that horse bleeding and shattered, and then go back to a pretty home filled with nightmares.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of how to proceed. Feyre just waited patiently, as patiently as he’d waited for her.

“… Ianthe wasn’t the one who put the red petals on the aisle.” Tamlin looked up at her, finally meeting her eyes. “She heard you when you said you were against them. Power-hungry as she was, you were more beneficial to her broken and married to me than anything else. She had no reason to betray that request, and Lucien reminded her of it whenever we all met in my study- you _couldn’t_ see that color. Even the guests were told to not so much as wear anything with rubies. We were trying, for you. I couldn’t help heal you, at least we wouldn’t make things worse.”

His laugh was bitter.

“Do me a favor? Right now, ask Rhys to show you what he saw when he came that day.” Tamlin looked away again.

Feyre opened that antechamber in her mind. _Rhysand?_

The image that came back- it wasn’t how _she_ remembered it.

The guests were gone and leaving, some chairs were overturned, and she stood there with that _ridiculous_ dress on. She was so pale, so horrifically thin-

-but only white and pink rose petals dotted the wedding aisle.

When Feyre’s eyes shot up to Tamlin once more, he took another swig from the bottle, “I glamoured them. You were the only one who saw red. It was a kneejerk reaction when you came out of that house. I didn’t want to hurt you, I _swear to the Cauldron_. I was broken and bleeding and so incredibly angry- it was a mistake to rush the wedding. A horrible mistake. Do you think I didn’t know what I was doing? You think I didn’t _know_ you were alone?”

His eyes were overbright, “I wanted to be so much more for you, Feyre. I knew it was cruel and horrific and cowardly- showing you those petals. I knew they would keep you away, even when I pretended I couldn’t see it. Even when I held out my hand and tried to force you to keep walking- I wanted you to know I _loved_ you, that I _wanted_ to marry you, but I also wanted that wedding to stop.”

Feyre felt vaguely nauseous.

“I manipulated you, for that I will always be sorry. I thought if I told you it was a mistake you’d feel _more_ alone, and it wasn’t fair after everything you did. You _died_ to save us all from Amarantha, and I couldn’t even _marry_ you? So I told myself that was the only way to spare your feelings- by taking advantage of how mangled you were inside… It was _disgusting_. Disgusting and cowardly and- and I can never make up for that.”

He swallowed hard, “But then Rhysand came. Amarantha’s whore. Her willing little _pet_. He and I were friends once, but I still let myself believe the worst in him. My father and brothers killed his family, he killed mine and sentenced me to the life of a High Lord. He was the Lord of Nightmares and everything cruel and vicious… And he took you.

“I couldn’t- Feyre, he took you _twice_ and rubbed it in my face that I couldn’t stop him no matter how hard I tried. You started fighting me, I was scared, I was angry- you know why I locked you in the manor. I’m not saying it was right. I’m not saying it wasn’t as vile and cruel as glamouring those petals on the aisle. I’m just saying that you were right. I was shoving you down. I was leaving you alone. I’d decided you needed solitude to heal, like me. But instead I left you abandoned.”

Tamlin took a long swig, “From my perspective, Feyre, you were taken by a male no different than Amarantha. You were _taken_ , and all I got was a few half-hearted words on a piece of paper as a goodbye. Lucien’s spies in the Hewn City didn’t see any trace of you- but they hadn’t seen you even when you were there before. We figured he was keeping you above the City again.”

“I thought you were his prisoner. I thought you were either in a cell or- Cauldron, tied up in his bedchamber. Do you know what Azriel is known as in the other Courts? He’s known as Rhys’ carver. He can break anyone and anything in a matter of hours. He takes Rhysand’s enemies and hacks at them until their minds are shattered as thoroughly as if Rhys did it himself.”

It was Feyre’s turn to take a long drink.

“His entire Inner Circle is- _was_ \- known to other Courts as monsters. Cassian will pick a fight with anyone and leave untold destruction in his wake. The Morrigan feels _nothing_ but bloodlust. Amren- well, you know the stories about Amren. I thought _that_ was who had you.”

“You came back to Prythian for me. You were willing to _die_ to save me- and that was _before_ you even met Amarantha. Like you said- you killed yourself for our love. After what I did to you? After I manipulated you and isolated you? I didn’t know it was even possible to feel so ashamed.

“But then- then our spies _finally_ saw you. After _months_ of silence- of nothing- they reported you being led into the throne room of the Hewn City by the Morrigan. They sent back word of someone who couldn’t be any _less_ like the Feyre I knew. A female who was brazen and who let Rhys do everything short of fuck her on that throne. When you left me you were broken, even if you’d healed in Night, I didn’t understand how _that_ Feyre was possible.

“They told me what Rhys did to Kier when he so much as looked at you sideways. How he mangled his arm and sent him off. How you looked _happy_ about it. My Feyre- the female who couldn’t even stand the color red, who woke up hearing the voices of the fae she killed in that last trial- she was standing there _smiling_ when Kier was tortured.”

It was the mask she’d worn in the Court of Nightmares, the one _for_ those like Kier. Feyre never even thought of who else might be watching. She knew Kier’s sins against his daughter, but who else did? After so long, did anyone still whisper of what he’d done to Mor as a young woman?

“My spies told me Rhys sent you off to Cassian like he was your _handler_. Like you’d been conditioned to go where you were told and cling to him. I thought-“ Tamlin clamped his mouth tight. Now he was the one who looked sick.

He thought Rhysand had shared her with Cassian and Azriel like some kind of prize. Behave, work hard, and you’ll get a turn in the Cursebreaker if the High Lord is done with her.

Feyre knew that was what Tamlin was getting at, even though he’d never say it aloud. Her blood went cold.

“I took Hybern’s deal that same day. He’d already been moving on Night, bit by bit, but my soldiers soon joined in. They loved you Feyre, you can’t imagine how much. Word got around of what was happening to you- what we _thought_ was happening. They _begged_ me to get them into Hybern’s troops in Night, to have a chance of finding you themselves. Lucien _begged_ me to send him after you. When he told me who he’d found- I took it as confirmation of my deepest fears.

“We got you back, and I wanted to believe Rhysand had controlled you. I _wanted_ that to be the truth. I tried to be a better male- you can’t deny me that much. I _tried_ to give you freedom, to be the fae you’d needed after Under the Mountain. You said Rhysand gave you something to fight for. Well, you being his prisoner gave _me_ something too. It helped me as much as it broke me.”

He grabbed the bottle and finished it off. “You let us think he forced himself on you. I understand why you did it- _I do_. You were hiding the mating bond, you didn’t trust us and even if… Even if I was willing to let you go back to him, Hybern’s people would have grabbed you first to use against him. So I know why you lied about that- or lied through omission. Please- just recognize what that did to those of us who loved you.”

Tamlin looked down at his hands, “Everything else… I understand. I get it. I- you were paying me what I was owed. I’m still pissed, but in the grand scheme of things… I get it. You made yourself clear today. I don’t like it, but… I can’t argue.”

Silence stretched between them. Feyre still felt lighter, but her joy was gone. She’d never considered it- exactly what Tamlin had seen while she was in Night. What they’d carefully crafted to show the outside world, and how that would look to the male she’d left so suddenly.

“I’m sorry about what I said during the High Lord’s meeting. I was pissed off and embarrassed and I dragged you down until you felt the same way.” Tamlin rubbed his forehead and loosed a bitter laugh, “Explain to me how a twenty year old human-turned-fae is more mature than one over _five hundred_ years old?”

“Rhys.” She answered truthfully, “Trust me, we were taking turns holding one another back.”

“I was asking for it.”

“I gave you plenty of reasons.”

Silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t angry or awkward. It wasn’t comfortable necessarily, but Feyre could tell just from the way Tamlin subtly rolled his shoulders that he was feeling what she felt- the easing of a great weight.

Both were wrong, one more than the other.

Both were wronged, one more than the other.

Tamlin stood and waited patiently for Feyre to do the same. He held out a hand to clasp hers- a warrior’s greeting, but as familiar as he dared.

“I’m sorry I abandoned you, Feyre.”

“For what happened after Hybern- I’m sorry too.”

He released her hand with a nod and took a step back. When he winnowed away without another word, she didn’t feel angry anymore. She didn’t feel ashamed or sad or lost.

She felt stronger, as though poison had, at long, _long_ last been drawn from a wound in both of them.

The next time the High Lords and Lady of Prythian might meet, they could stand comfortably.

The table and chairs vanished, and Feyre took one last look at the mountain in the distance.

No roaring filled her ears. She didn’t see the grate lowering over her or feel its heat. There was no wall of bones or a roaring wyrm-

It was just a mountain.

Whatever horrors happened inside- however they might still infect her dreams from time to time- somehow the mountain’s hold was broken.

With a laugh, Feyre flipped off the distant peak and turned towards the north. Towards home.

She never looked back again.


End file.
